Chapter 3 - Descent into the Concrete
The utility shaft was narrow, smelling of cold dampness, copper wiring, and old concrete dust. Clara scrambled down the vertical metal ladder behind Thomas Vance, her boots slipping twice against the rungs before she found a steady rhythm. Her lungs burned, and her legs trembled from exhaustion, but adrenaline kept her moving.
They dropped out through a ceiling hatch into the cavernous gloom of the sub-level parking garage.
Rows of luxury sedans and armored SUVs stretched out under the flickering amber glow of emergency lights. The air here was heavy with exhaust fumes and the sharp, metallic tang of rain blowing in from the open ramp doors.
"Keep close," Thomas whispered, his weapon raised as he scanned the pillars.
They reached the sleek black Mercedes sedan parked in sector four. Thomas clicked the key fob, and the lights blinked twice. He pulled the rear door open, gesturing for Clara to slide inside.
Clara climbed into the leather-lined interior, breathless. She set her laptop bag down on the seat beside her, her fingers brushing against the cold plastic of her dented coffee thermos.
As Thomas moved to close the door, a sudden movement near the concrete pillar to their left caught her eye.
"Thomas—" she screamed.
A heavy metal pipe swung out from the darkness, catching Thomas across the temple with a sickening crunch. He dropped instantly, collapsing motionless against the side of the car.
Stepping out from the shadows of the pillar was a man in a dark tactical jacket, his face partially obscured by a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. In his hand, he held a heavy-duty wrench.
"Well, well," a raspy voice cut through the garage. "The accountant who knew too much."
Clara didn't hesitate. She didn't wait for Thomas to regain consciousness, and she didn't try to open the opposite door. She grabbed her heavy metal thermos from the seat, rolled across the leather bench, and slammed the rear passenger window with all her strength.
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The reinforced glass cracked, spiderwebbing outward. She struck it a second time with a wild, desperate cry, and the shattered pane gave way, raining jagged glass across the concrete floor.
Without looking back, Clara squeezed through the narrow window frame, scraping her shoulder against the sharp edges of the glass, and hit the concrete running toward the main exit ramp.
